Spartan IVs
by firerwolf
Summary: Stories about the Spartan IV, Sarah Palmer.
1. Chapter 1

Spartan IV

Kelly stood in the observation room, watching the Spartan IVs inside the holo-chamber as they played a war game identified as oddball. They'd been running the game type all day and Kelly had been watching for several hours. A Spartan in red and yellow recruit armor cursed over the COMMs as another Spartan in purple and orange EOD armor gunned him down from behind just feet away from the corner the ball holder was around. Kelly just watched in disappointment as the EOD armored Spartan rounded the corner just to have the ball slammed into his head and kill him. Sadly Kelly wasn't really surprised by the failure or the absolute botch of a good opportunity.

The door to the observation room opened and Kelly turned to see Senior Chief Petty Officer Mendez enter. Kelly turned to face him and snapped to attention. "Sir," she greeted crisply.

"As you were, Spartan," Mendez said as he moved to stand beside Kelly. It felt odd to have her rank referred to as Spartan. She was a Spartan, the way ODST were ODST, but even ODST had ranks on top of that title. She'd been a Petty Officer for so many years the new rank was taking some getting used to. "What do you think of them?" Mendez asked, staring down at the screen showing the statistics of the current game. "Rather one sided," the Chief muttered.

Kelly hesitated, not wanting to say anything wrong about the Spartan IVs. She would have to try to stay impartial and she didn't think it was exactly fair to compare them to Spartan IIs. "They aren't exactly what I expected," Kelly admitted cautiously. The Spartan IVs were just getting off the ground so a bad word from her might get to higher ears and she wouldn't want to diminish how important the Spartan IVs were. "I'm sure they'll improve over time, after all it has only been a few months since they were fully approved."

"What about them disappoints you?" Mendez asked. Kelly frowned, feeling uncomfortable with the question. Kelly had never been one to want to speak ill of others, particularly when it might cause them trouble. But Mendez had known her almost all of her life and he knew here well enough to recognize her hesitation. "I'm just asking, Spartan, not in any formal purpose. They want my advice on how to train these new Spartans but you know better than me exactly what they'll be up against."

"Do I?" Kelly asked, watching as another Spartan had the ball slammed into his head. "Does anyone know what they'll be up against? The war is over, so what exactly will they be fighting?"

"ONI intel indicates Covenant religious groups and possibly human rebels in the future. From the report about The Sangheili the Arbiter only has command of some of his people but there are still human hating groups that may attack us. There's also word of a new rebel organization growing in the colonies." Mendez tapped the controls of the screen and started to flip through the previous records from the war games. "So I'll ask again: what do you think of these Spartans?"

Kelly didn't answer right away but it was more to get her thoughts in line and answer him as best she could. "They likely aren't what the brass wanted," she began. "They want more Spartan IIs but like the Spartan IIIs they just aren't. It also feels like they haven't made it clear that augmentation and armor don't make you a Spartan any more than the armor makes an ODST. They seem to just hand them armor after the augmentations when it feels like it should be earned." Mendez nodded, acknowledging her words. "It also seems like they're wasting a lot of Spartans."

"You think that there are Spartans being put in the wrong positions?" Mendez asked, turning his gaze to the screen of the action below. "Where would you prefer they be?"

"It's more of their future plans," Kelly clarified. "Their plans to fill the op center with Spartans is…I don't understand why? Why take the people standing at a terminal augment them, and give them power armor when they aren't going to be in combat. It's a waste of an augmentation that should be going to a ground soldier and armor that should be deflecting plasma not making a tech look impressive. It seems to just be for appearance but it seems like more Spartans on the ground would make people more impressed than some people standing around in expensive armor completely out of harms way and not helping." Kelly regretted saying that. Even if this wasn't a formal conversation the comment felt like it was harsh. Still she couldn't take the comment back and she wouldn't lie and say she didn't believe what she'd said.

"It does seem like energy shields and unbreakable bones are better used on field units than support on a ship." Mendez frowned and shook his head slightly as the soldier in scout armor just started flat outrunning her opponents and they killed each other as they raced after her. "I don't really see what's the objective of this exercise."

"I believe they're only doing it for competition sake," Kelly informed him. "It doesn't serve any training purpose really. The competitors decided to partake, not ordered."

Mendez let out a low "Hmm," as he looked back to the results of the previous games. "This Spartan McKal seems to be doing well. The war game may be useful For finding stand outs."

"He's not really doing that well," Kelly corrected. "He's from the army, all the others are Air Force. Pilots. He's taking advantage of the fact that they aren't combat soldiers to stroke his own ego. That's why Spartan Palmer entered the game. She wanted to knock him down a peg or two."

"That explains their lack of tactics," Mendez muttered as he watched Palmer stand at the end of a hallway and dodge rare shots as her opponents picked each other off until there were few enough she could just beat the remainders to death with the ball. "Do you approve of her stepping in with that motive?"

"Yes," Kelly answered without hesitation. "Spartan McKal has become cocky picking on the lower skill of his fellow Spartans. Palmer has gone to show him he's no better to her than they are to him. I'll admit not the most honorable thing to do, knock him down and then kick him while he's down but he's getting a big head the way a teenager would by showing up five-year-olds."

Mendez nodded but Kelly wasn't sure if it was out of just acknowledgement or if he was agreeing with her. "Beside this group do you have any other concerns about or suggestions for the Spartan IVs?"

Kelly wasn't even sure where to start with that question. What sort of suggestions was he looking for? Did he mean concerns about the project as a whole or a out the soldiers. "Don't over think it," Mendez said in a slightly sharp voice.

Kelly took a deep breath and decided to just speak what came to mind. "Why are they taking soldiers from every branch. They seem to be trying to take them evenly from all the branches but I don't understand why."

"They have to appease all the branches. The navy will complain if they take more army troops for example. It's a matter of their soldier's pride," Mendez explained. "The Spartans can't risk a branch refusing to give them more soldiers because they feel unfairly treated."

"It just feels like that would leave the program quickly scrapping the barrel for a couple of them. I read the files about the original five Spartan IVs, they were chosen because they were ideal to be Spartans. They had proven that they were worthy of being Spartans. With some of these recruits it looks like if they got good grades and a Purple Heart they were admitted. It just doesn't feel like it's up to the standards befitting the legacy of my fallen family." Kelly pushed aside the sorrow of the years of loss.

"Can't say I don't agree, Spartan, but then again we don't have much away over that." Mendez clasped his hands behind his back and watched as the game ended, Palmer being the only player with any points. "So what's your final verdict on them? They are after all who is going to take up the Spartan name."

Kelly frowned, feeling uncomfortable with the question. She decided to go with the best response she could manage. "If they get more Palmers and less McKals then they'll be fine." At least Kelly hoped they would. There were only four of the Spartan IIs left and in the years to come these Spartan IVs would be what people thought of when thought of Spartans. They would carry on the legacy of Will, Joshua, Sam, and all the fallen Spartans. "It just concerns me that Spartans like McKal seem to treat this like a fantasy, like a dream come true and they aren't taking it seriously enough. I don't understand why it is that they didn't just hand out an invitation to every ODST that had experience from the war. Unlike marines and pilots who wish to be Spartans ODST don't want that. To them this is a chance to be better and do their job better. They would also create a strong, skilled starting class for the program."

"Sometimes the leaders above us make choices that we wouldn't," Mendez informed her. "We just have to live with their decisions and make the best of it." Mendez closed his eyes and let out a long breath. "Sometimes we're asked to do things that we think are illogical or immoral but we have our duty and that includes dealing with the choices of others." Kelly didn't exactly get everything he meant but she got the general idea. She just wasn't used to not having John as a buffer between her and the actions of their superiors.

"Sir, may I ask a question?" Kelly asked. Mendez looked a bit confused but nodded, allowing her question. "Why are you asking me about this? Shouldn't you be asking Fred, he's the head of the Spartan IIs now. Or Linda. She's better at observing."

"That may be true but I believe that I know the Spartans I trained and I've come to you." Mendez smiled a bit to himself. "Everyone has something to offer, what matters is which skill you need. You've always had a skill for knowing how to push people to be better, and that's what I need. Linda can tell me things about them but she doesn't have as personal of a touch. Fred has too personal of a touch, taking every word too seriously and it causes him to be harder to get to settle on an answer. You are honest but observant and over the years I've seen you support your team leaders through the hardest of times. That ability to recognize what is needed to be done to support these Spartans is what I need. And there's no one else I'd turn to."

Kelly smiled at the complement, not sure how much she agreed but acknowledging the comment. "Thank you, sir."

Mendez smiled and looked to the screen where the Spartans were leaving the war games area. "Seems that Spartan Palmer beat them a little too soundly so they quit." Mendez frowned a bit in disapproval. "What do you think of Spartan Palmer?"

"Yes, what do you think of me?" Kelly turned to look back at Spartan Palmer as she entered the room. She moved to stand a bit away from Kelly and her eyes stayed focused on the Spartan II.

"I think that next time they have a free for all we should both get in there so you can really put your skills to the test." Kelly smirked, happy to see the smirk returned.

"You're on Spartan," Palmer said in a confident tone.


	2. Oddball

**Oddball**

Kelly looked around at the gathered Spartan-IVs, trying to spot any that she recognized or had been impressed by in the past. It was hard for her to pick out individuals when they weren't wearing their unique armors, as they were still waiting to suit up. It was odd to her, because the Spartan-IIs didn't use their armor as their identity; she could tell Linda apart no matter what armor she wore, but that didn't seem to be true for the Spartan-IVs. Their armor seemed to be a part of who they were, a part of their personality and identity. The only Spartan-IV she recognized was Sarah Palmer as she walked across the room toward Kelly.

"What do you think of the competition?" Palmer asked.

"You chose them?" Kelly asked. Palmer nodded and watched Kelly, likely looking for her approval. "They're a good selection. Hopefully they'll make this a bit of a challenge." Kelly did like the assortment of Spartans, and she supposed it might be more interesting to have the added difficulty of the other competitors, but Kelly had been hoping to test Palmer one on one.

The Spartan-IVs started to move to the armor stations so Kelly followed suit. She was slightly annoyed to see that a few of the Spartans stopped to watch her armor up, but she tried to ignore it. She'd gotten her leg and arm armor attached before she spotted Palmer frowning at the crowd. "What are you all standing around for? Armor up, Spartans!" Palmer shouted, causing the Spartan-IVs to scatter to their armor stations before she moved to her own.

Kelly's helmet came down and secured into place as her HUD came to life. She waited until it completely booted up and was settled before she stepped down from the platform to where the Spartan-IVs were walking toward the holo-chamber. Kelly moved down the row and into the large chamber to wait with the others. When the game started after the countdown finished, they'd all be moved to other locations on the map. For this game they'd be playing on a map called "Haven" that Kelly liked. They had votes on which map they would use, and for Kelly it hadn't been a hard choice. Another option had been a map called "Solace" that she disliked because of the size. She'd watched games played on it and most of the time the Spartans were just running from one side to the other, giving the carrier easy points. The last option they had was for a map called "Shutout", which was the worst. There was just so much time wasted because people tossed the ball out of bounds, or fell off the edge. Haven on the other hand was a small enough size that any spawn-point wasn't too far away from the action, and there were less open areas so the ball went out of bounds less often.

There was a white light, a moment of vertigo, and Kelly was standing on smooth white metal. An ordinance pod appeared beside her and once it opened she grabbed the assault rifle, pistol, frag grenades, and her chosen armor upgrade. The time on her HUD counted down and Kelly limbered up a bit. As soon as the clock vanished and the icon for the ball's location appeared, Kelly took off. There was one Spartan who had spawned ahead of her and she quickly dispatched him with an elbow to the back of the head as she passed. The Spartan wasn't actually hurt, the system had safety measures to limit how hard you could actually hit someone and paralyzed "dead" soldiers so they didn't hurt themselves. And they were teleported off the map and moved to a new spawn point right away, though they'd have to recover and get any new gear they requested. Kelly really didn't understand how it worked and it seemed a bit rough, but she'd been assured that it would improve over time.

The ball came into view and Kelly watched as a Spartan almost reached it, but at the last second Spartan Palmer grabbed the soldier's armor, pulled him back, and slammed a knife handle down on the man's sternum where the armor didn't cover. It was registered as a knife kill and the Spartan vanished in white light. Still it was enough of a delay for Kelly to dash ahead and take the ball, much to Palmer's visible anger. Kelly was sure the Spartan-IV had wanted to at least grab it before she could, but she'd been too slow. Kelly charged toward Palmer and although the other woman tried to move away the ball collided with Palmer's helmet and she fell, taken away by the system. With the real threat gone Kelly jogged off, knowing that she'd have to keep moving. The system marked her location for all other the players to see, meaning she couldn't hide with the ball - not that she minded going for a leisurely run.

Kelly heard gunfire ahead, but by the time she reached it there were only three Spartans and two of them were firing on each other. The third was crouched to the side so the others wouldn't notice her. Kelly saw Palmer getting up, preparing to strike her, so Kelly took off as quickly as she could. A grenade went off near her and Kelly's shields fell completely, though it didn't even break her stride. She was a bit impressed that Sarah had gotten the timing so close and had almost hit her directly with the blast. Kelly heard another gunfight break out behind her, but she ignored them and moved up a couple ramps to the upper level, weaving through the curved passages. There was one soldier ahead of her but he was running in the same direction, so Kelly simply came up behind him and slammed the ball into the back of the man's head. She was seeing other "dead" bodies around, so there must have been side-fighting between the others. She was disappointed that they were still failing to use proper tactics. She was so focused on the soldiers scattered about that she didn't see Palmer until the Spartan-IV was already on her. Kelly reacted, just barely being able to bring the ball forward in time to smack into the white Scout helmet before Palmer's blade struck her.

Kelly stood in place for a moment after the white light had faded and looked down at the now-false body clad in white Scout armor on the ground. She needed to be more careful, Palmer was simply getting too close and she was relentless. Kelly spotted dots on her motion tracker and took off down the ramp to the lower level. She saw a few other Spartans but they were hardly able to keep up with her so they were no concern, until Palmer showed up again. Kelly had just jumped across a small gap in the upper structure when Palmer appeared from around the monolith at the center of the map…with an energy sword. Palmer swung with the blade a couple times, moving to try to get behind Kelly but the Spartan-II dodged each strike. Palmer suddenly moved back, put one of her arms up as though to guard from a strike, and an energy plane similar to a large Jackal shield flared to life. Kelly didn't even see or feel the blast, just a flash of blue and then white. The force of the blast did force Kelly off her feet though, and she fell to the ground at her new spawn point.

Kelly forced herself to stand up, realizing what had happened. Palmer had apparently stuck her with a plasma grenade. On her HUD she could see Palmer's time holding the ball was ticking up, which she just couldn't stand for. Kelly grabbed her gear and took off toward the icon. When she found Palmer the woman was being followed by three people. Kelly threw a grenade and stopped, waiting for Palmer to get closer. The explosive went off and two of the three people were taken out, the last one having his shields downed. Kelly opened fire and cut the last man down before turning her attention to Palmer, who had just run past her. Kelly turned and charged the woman, grabbing her blade to strike Palmer from behind. Just as Kelly was reaching her Palmer turned, swinging with the ball. Kelly was faster, though, and ducked down to tackle Palmer by the waist. They fell to the ground and Kelly quickly raised her knife and brought it down, rewarded with a flash of white light. The ball rolled away and Kelly scooped it up, tucking it to her side and continued running.

For the rest of the game Kelly tried to just avoid Palmer completely. The other soldiers were no match, but the female Spartan-IV got in a few more close blows; at one point Kelly only survived a barrage of needle-rounds by ducking behind a pillar when Palmer unloaded with two needlers from above. She also showed a great familiarity with the map, as at one point she threw a plasma grenade up a gravity lift and stuck one of Kelly's followers, nearly hitting Kelly. The blast still might've even taken Kelly out, but she pulled a quick one-eighty and led them backward so the grenade took out some of her pursuers instead.

When the match ended, Kelly had won without anyone else having touched the ball aside from Palmer, who had scored ten seconds. Kelly had her armor removed and then made her way to the observation room, knowing that that was where Palmer would be. The Spartan-IV was standing in the room, holding a copy of the final score to the game. "That went well," Kelly commented.

"It went better than well," Palmer said with a smile on her face. "I think I'm going to get this framed." She motioned to the final score in her hands.

"Why? You didn't win?" Kelly didn't really understand how ten seconds was something to show off.

"Because I got ten seconds in a game against you. I'm sure to you that must not seem like something to be proud of…but you're _you_. You're the fastest person I've ever seen, and…" Palmer looked away from Kelly and to the score. "And you're kind of a role model to me." Kelly let out a laugh at that idea. Sure people looked up to all the Spartan-IIs, but it seemed more logical to have someone like John bee thought of as a role model. "Hey, don't mock me," Sarah said defensively.

"I'm sorry, I just don't know why you'd look up to me," Kelly explained. "Sure I'm fast, but that's about it."

Palmer was silent for a moment before she finally replied. "The day we went in for our first augmentations, when I entered the room a few of the others asked me if I was the nurse sent to shave them for the operations. When I told them I was there for the augmentations as well they laughed at me until I threatened to shut them up. You don't to have that problem. Your Spartan-II Lieutenant, what is his name…Fred? He doesn't treat you like that. He respects you, treats you like you're exactly the same as him. I guess I admire that you have that respect, and it's something I want. I go into these war games and even when I trounce the others they say it's just luck, or that I cheated. I want to be able to shut them up for good." Palmer's voice was agitated and she was scowling.

"Well then you have to keep on destroying them until you get to a point that they can't claim luck, and are forced to recognize your skills. John…the Master Chief, once told me that he thought I would slow him down or be a burden on the team until I proved to him that I was strong and fast. Back then he was a bratty kid though, more susceptible to change. With adults it's just going to take longer, that's all," Kelly assured.

"Wait, the Master Chief was a brat?" Sarah asked, an amused smile on her face. "The big, bad, legendary Spartan was an obnoxious little kid?"

"Yeah," Kelly confirmed. "On our first day of training he cost me and our other best friend dinner. The next day we had to threaten to beat him up to get him to work with us."

"You have got to tell me that story," Palmer said, seeming enticed by the idea. Kelly looked away, not sure if she really wanted to do that. "Come on, you can't tell me you don't want to talk about him. Whenever I was separated from my boyfriend the only thing that made me not miss him was talking about him. Reliving the memories makes them feel close."

Kelly shrugged and nodded. "I suppose it seems worth a try. I was never really away from him until the last few months of the war. And I had actually hoped that when we came home he'd be here, but he just...isn't."

"Well we'll get some drinks, whatever's the best we can find, sit down, and you can tell me all about your boyfriend," Palmer proposed. "What do you say? It doesn't have to be anything too personal, and I'd be happy to hear about some of the missions you went on as well."

"I would like to talk to someone about him. The other Spartan-IIs don't want to hear about him much these days, and I wouldn't want to force that on them." Kelly smiled slightly at the younger Spartan. "All right, you're on. But fair warning, I've got a lot of stories."

"And I've got time and ears, so now all we need are refreshments." Palmer moved toward the door and Kelly followed. She liked this Spartan-IV, and she was now even more confident about what she'd told Mendez after having properly tested the other woman.


	3. Interview

**Interview**

Sarah Palmer sat at the table, trying not to tap her foot impatiently. She'd been waiting in the room for at least an hour and it was starting to annoy her. She'd never been one for sitting around, but at the moment the Spartan-IVs were having a competition and for all she knew her high score was being beaten that very minute. She'd only had two chances, and although her second to had been way better than the others', there was no telling how much they could have improved over the last hour. The idea of one of the other soldiers gloating at having beaten her infuriated her and made her antsy.

"Is there somewhere you need to be, Soldier?" The man sitting on the other side of the table asked without looking up. He'd come in not long after her arrival and had sat across from her, reading a report in silence the entire time since. His hair was grayed, but he looked like he could handle himself in a fight. He reminded her of the drill instructors she'd had back in boot, but he wasn't as threatening.

"No, sir," Sarah responded curtly. She didn't _need_ to be off with the other Spartans, but that was where she wanted to be. Still, she knew this was some sort of interrogation so she'd have to be careful. After all they didn't bring a person into a small cramped room complete with the classic two-way mirror on one wall for just a friendly chat.

"Let me rephrase that," the man said, looking up from the report he was reading. "Is there somewhere you'd prefer to be?"

Sarah considered lying to him but decided there was no real reason to. "The other Spartan-IVs are running a little competition. I'd prefer to be with them defending my place as top-scorer and improving my time. I can't let them beat me."

The man studied Sarah for a few seconds before he responded. "Would it really be that big of a deal if they beat you?" Sarah scowled, not sure how to explain it without getting in trouble. How did one explain the negative effect being beaten out by a man, to a man - without bringing up the ingrained male-centric nature of the military? "Do speak freely, Soldier. I'm here to get to know you, the real you, and formalities will only get in the way of that."

"If I lose it won't just be a loss. If I win then they say I did as expected, but if I lose then they start wondering if I can keep up with the men. I'm the only female Spartan, so I also have to do well or they'll limit the number of women they take into the project because we don't seem capable. I have to work twice as hard to earn half the respect. That's just how it is." Sarah crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "Even if just one of the others beat me, they'll all hold it over my head like they all beat me."

"Aine," the man said, and _Infinity's _ AI appeared on the desk's holotank. "Have any of the other Spartan-IVs beaten Palmer's score in their competition?"

"Spartan Holt has made a slight improvement to his score, but has not yet past Spartan Palmer's time," the AI answered.

The man turned back to Sarah. "Satisfied?"

"Yes, sir," Sarah responded, relaxing a bit. She knew she'd had a good lead on Holt before she'd left, so if he'd only made a little improvement then she wasn't worried about them besting her any time soon. For now she could just sit in this room and let the other Spartans hopelessly try to beat her time. The only thing that would have made it better was if she was able to be sipping fruit juice. She didn't even mind that it was another ten minutes before the man spoke again.

"Your record is rather unimpressive for being chosen to be a Spartan." The man's face was blank and stared across the table at her. "I was expecting more."

"I'm only here because I saved an officer's life," Sarah informed him. She'd never thought her record impressive either, so saving the Admiral was the only reason she could come up with. That wasn't something she had much of an opinion on, really. She was a Spartan now; this was a whole new part of her record, so she that should be all that mattered. She certainly wasn't concerned with her record before the augmentations.

"That must be why as you have one of the least impressive out of all five recruits for the project." The man set the tablet down and frowned at Sarah. "You're reckless and suicidal under pressure. You show no regard for the destruction or damage of UNSC property. I can't even begin to fathom why they made you a part of this project."

Sarah knew she should keep her cool, brush off the comment, but she just couldn't. It was a stab at her skills as a soldier - the thing she'd given her life over to. "I was an ODST, being reckless and suicidal are in the job description. And I rather have ruined equipment than dead people." She bit off saying any more, knowing already that she was going to get in trouble now and there was no reason to make it worse. None of what she said seemed to even register with the man; his face remaining stern like it was carved out of stone. Sarah sat up tall, unashamed of what she'd said and not willing to back down.

The man pressed on as though she hadn't said a word. "You've served seven years as an ODST, making it to the rank of Corporal." The man hit the home button on his tablet and Sarah waited for him to get to the point. "Why was this that the highest rank you were able to reach?"

"Because I didn't aspire to it," Sarah answered. "Though after twelve tours and eight planets, I don't think it's that unimpressive without trying."

"So you have no ambition?" The man asked.

"My only ambition is to serve," Sarah responded, not liking his tone much. "I loved being an ODST, and that was all I wanted. Private, Corporal, it doesn't matter to me as long as I get to drop outta the sky in a hail of fire and kill every bastard that gets in my way. I did my job, that was all I wanted and there's no reason to promote a person for just doing their job."

Again the man stared blankly at her and she wasn't sure if a single word got through. She was sure he was doing that on purpose, but she couldn't understand why. Was he an ONI spook come to check on their investment and decide if the price had been worth it? Was he some sort of test to see how she handled stress and interrogation? She couldn't be sure if he was either, as she didn't have enough information to tell. He had no insignia for his rank so Sarah didn't even know if addressing him as "sir" was correct.

"On your first mission you disobeyed the commands of a superior, risked the life of you and…" he looked to the table and then back to Sarah. "Edward Davis. You also risked the safety of both Captain Del Rio and Commander Lasky. Would you have considered the mission a success?"

"Absolutely," Sarah answered without a moment of hesitation. "_Infinity_ is safe, Davis, Del Rio, and Lasky are all fine, and Jun didn't really give me any orders I disobeyed." The last part was only partly true, but he didn't need to know that. "No casualties, and the threat was dealt with. Seems like a success to me."

"So you find that taking such risks are acceptable, soldier?" The man asked.

"Spartan," Sarah corrected. The man frowned and one of his eyebrows rose slightly. "My rank is Spartan, and I should be addressed as such."

"I think you're far from deserving of that rank," the man shot back.

"That doesn't matter," Sarah retorted. "My rank _is_ Spartan. I've met Captains I thought no more capable than a Private, but they're still Captains. Rank is given whether you think it deserved or not."

The silence in the room was heavy but Sarah ignored it as best she could. Maybe she'd crossed a line, but she was tired of being disrespected and him avoiding her rank. "Do you find such risks acceptable?" the man asked again. Sarah noted that he still was refusing to call her "Spartan".

"Yes," she answered with confidence. Maybe this man didn't like how she did things, but she supposed he mustn't have been around many ODST. Thinking outside the box was a part of their job and made them unique. "If I remember correctly, the Master Chief used the _Pillar of Autumn's _engines to blow up a Halo. Seems like risky, uncommon plans to deal with difficult situations is the Spartan way."

The man's gaze turned to the tablet that was sitting on the table. When his gaze rose again he seemed as stoic as ever. "Why'd you join the UNSC?"

It was an oddly casual question and Sarah wondered if there was something else he was fishing for. "Because I wanted to serve. Humanity was at war and it needed every soldier it could get. I was able to fight, so I joined up to do my part."

"And why become and ODST? There are many ways to serve. Why not become an officer or join a different branch?" The man leaned back against his chair but it looked odd with his stiff posture. "Why the most dangerous option?"

"I don't want to lead, so why would I become officer? Maybe joining the ODST is the dangerous option - but I don't see why that matters. Marines, pilots, and all the others get stuck with the boring duties. I wanted to make a difference, and that's what the ODST do. We did the jobs the others weren't able to handle. And it didn't hurt that I got along with them more than any other branch of soldiers either."

"Except for particular officers," the man added. Sarah stared blankly at the man and refused to give up anything. "I think we're done here," he said before standing up.

"What, I don't get to ask any questions?" Sarah asked mockingly. The man stopped and looked down at her. "You know you never gave me your name or told me why we were even having this meeting. So who are you? What was the point of this discussion?"

"What makes you think you get to ask any questions?" The man asked back.

"Well for all I know you're actually below me in rank, so perhaps you have no right to be asking me anything," Sarah explained. The man sat back down and Sarah was surprised that he hadn't just ignored her. "So why don't you start with your rank?"

"And what if I just get up and leave?" He responded, hitting the ball back to her.

"If you really wanted to go, why did you sit back down?" Sarah shot right back. She was more than willing to play question squash all day if it got her any information about this stranger.

The man turned toward the two-way mirror that Sarah knew they were being watched through and drew his hand across his neck in a quick cutting motion. "You've got too much ODST in you to be a Spartan," the man stated.

"In your opinion," Sarah added, crossing her arms. "I think the Spartans before me don't have enough ODST. Maybe if they had a bit more spirit, people wouldn't think them walking tanks rather than actual humans."

"How would be being like and ODST be productive?" The man seemed to be interested but Sarah couldn't be sure if it was real. "How would that make a Spartan better?"

"I'm fairly certain I'm supposed to be the one asking the questions now, not you," Sarah pointed out. "Though if you tell me your name and rank, maybe I'd be more inclined to explain."

The man paused, considering her offer for a moment. "Senior Chief Petty Officer Mendez," he informed her.

"Well, let me tell you why the UNSC and humanity are better off with heels like ODST." Sarah slouched in her chair and explained further. "When I was growing up, ODST were the greatest thing you could be. If you wanted to be a soldier and you wanted to be the best, then you became an ODST. Now it's heavily armored Spartans. But that's like wanting to be a superhero; sure kids look up to them, but even in their own comics they are always just these far away ideals that aren't realistic. ODST are the soldiers in the bar you can buy a round of drinks for as a thanks. They're seen as people, as humans. That's the thing that ODST can bring to the Spartans. They make it within reach, but still elevated above the common soldier - if they keep a standard of recruits. Or at the least make every recruit meet standards of skill after being chosen."

"And who exactly would keep these ODST-like-Spartans in line?" Mendez asked, leaning forward against the table.

"Musa will figure that out," Sarah said with a slight shrug. "So what's the point of this meeting anyway? You try to act like an ONI spook, but you aren't, and I don't understand the point of this meeting at all."

"How do you know I'm not ONI?" Mendez asked.

"You're too sloppy for ONI. You're serious, which is classic interrogation...but you're too serious. And you weren't leading me anywhere with your questions. You closed the documents on your tablet, but clearly checked it later as though you didn't remember information - that wasn't subtle enough for ONI. Now answer the question."

"I'm just getting to know the Spartan-IVs," Mendez answered.

"If you want to get to know us, this is far from the way to do it. Give us a task, come talk to us, but don't pretend to be ONI. You look like a respectable soldier, clearly been military most of your life." Sarah didn't get why anyone would think pretending to be ONI would make someone open up more. "If you want to know about me, why pretend to be someone who a person would shut up the most around?"

"You didn't seem to shut up," Mendez countered.

"That's because you aren't ONI," Sarah reminded him. "Though I still don't understand why you'd record this."

"For future reference," was Mendez's answer. He frowned slightly and Sarah was a bit annoyed. If he needed reference then he wasn't just getting to know her. "Do you know who I am?"

"Do you know Jun?" Sarah asked, and the man nodded. "And you know Musa too, I'm sure." She didn't need to ask, something in her gut told her that she was right. "You're too old to be from Jun's generation of Spartans. So what are you to the Spartans exactly? Another washout of the Spartan-IIs?"

"No," Mendez answered, standing and picking up his tablet. "I trained the Spartan-IIs." Before Sarah could really register the information the man turned and walked to the door. "That will be all, Spartan."

Sarah sat in the room for a few seconds before she finally stood from her seat. "Aine?" The AI's avatar appeared over the holotank. "Have they made any progress?"

"Not yet, Spartan Palmer," Aine answered. "Spartan Holt hasn't gotten any closer and the others have only made minor improvements on their own score, but have not beat Holt's time."

"Thank you, Aine. Suppose I should head down there and show them again how it's done." Sarah turned and left the room, leaving thoughts of her conversation with Chief Mendez behind for now. She had more pressing matters, like showing the boys how to properly run a course.

Mendez stood in the observation room with the two other Spartans; a strange sight, considering the three generations of Spartans and how different they all were. Jun looked too young to be amongst them, reminding Mendez that the Spartan-IIIs were hardly more than children when they'd been tossed into the most dangerous of combat. Musa sat in his powered chair, a living reminder of the faults of the Spartan-II augmentations. Both of them had been forced into the programs and had suffered for it. Mendez had agreed to be a part of the Orion Project, and it seemed like he'd come out of it better off than either of them.

"What do you think of them?" Musa asked, folding his hands in his lap. He was the one who had asked Mendez to advise on the Spartan-IV Project and evaluate the first group of its recruits. Jun was unusually silent, and he knew that the Spartan-III was watching him for a hint of his reaction.

"They seem competent, though I'm not sure about how disciplined they are. It could be problematic during more sensitive missions or when strict obedience is necessary. There is potential, but whether or not that potential is met will have to be seen in the future." Mendez had to be as objective as he could be, even play down some of the more positive aspects of the new Spartans, less Musa or Jun become too optimistic. These Spartans would be under a lot of scrutiny and they couldn't relax. These were the Spartans where the public would be able to talk to them, that would be the most visible. And with the history of the Spartan Projects they would be asked a lot of questions.

"Are they Spartans?" Musa asked. Mendez should have guessed that he'd ask the toughest questions. He had the full brain power of any Spartan-II, he'd really only lost his legs.

"They aren't the Spartans the public is used to," Mendez began. "But the public didn't really know about Spartans like Gray team, or Spartan-113 either." Musa nodded and Jun looked between the two of them.

"I hate it when you make references I don't get," Jun muttered, sounding slightly annoyed.

"Maybe I'll tell you all about them over a glass of scotch," Musa said with a slight smile. "Care to join us, Chief?"

Mendez considered the proposition for a moment and then nodded. "I see no reason not to." It couldn't hurt to take a trip back to the old days, with someone who didn't think everything that had happened was a crime against humanity.


	4. Consequences

Consequences

Sarah moved through the hallway, heading toward the Captain's ready room, not really sure why she'd been summoned. Usually Lasky would have told her the reason he needed to talk to her, but there had been no explanation this time. She was a bit unsure about where she stood with Lasky at the moment. Although he'd had her back after that last mission, they had been arguing right before it and he hadn't been happy with her choice to go through the second portal. So she wasn't sure if she should take the silence as a sign of his displeasure with her. Palmer sighed. She had enough to worry about right now and really didn't need to add Tom acting odd to the list. She reached the room and knocked on the door, waiting for him to let her in, already planning on how she was going to scold him for the lack of information. All those thoughts stopped cold though as the door opened and she found that it wasn't Lasky that was waiting for her.

The man motioned her in and Sarah stepped forward, snapping to attention and saluting the Commander. "Sir," she greeted, not sure when he'd boarded the ship.

"Have a seat, Spartan," Musa instructed, motioning toward the padded Captain's chair that had been moved around to her side of the desk so Musa's wheelchair could fit where Lasky would have normally sat. Palmer hesitated, feeling a bit awkward about sitting in the chair. She'd sat in it before when Tom talked about how comfortable it was, or when she was bored while waiting for him to meet with her, but she never really liked it. She moved over to one of the standard chairs instead and sat down. "Not a fan of the plush?" he asked.

"That's Lasky's chair," Sarah responded passively. That chair had always been Tom's dream, not Sarah's. She couldn't look at it without seeing Tom sitting in it; a grin on his face, and wearing his new Captain's combat uniform. While he looked like he always belonged in the chair, she felt like she looked stupid - like a child trying to sit in their parents' chair to feel like an adult. It just wasn't a chair she was meant to sit in.

Musa shrugged, letting it go, and seemed to turn his focus to business. "I'm sure you can guess why it is that I wanted to talk to you." Sarah didn't respond, as they both knew the only thing he'd want to talk about. "I read the full report of your encounter with Halsey, and now I'd like to hear about it from you. Not the story you told ONI, but the full truth."

"I didn't lie in my report or during my briefing with the agents from ONI." Sarah had been sure that nothing she'd told the spooks had been a lie. She may have left out some events, but technically that wasn't lying.

"This isn't an official inquiry, Palmer, it's personal. This is the second time she's gotten away from you. I know your record on the firing range and in the simulations. She should have been dead on Requiem." Musa leaned forward and set his elbows on Tom's desk. "Tell me what happened."

"Exactly what I said in my report. Halsey ran, and I was going to follow until the Harvester appeared." Musa didn't speak and Palmer knew he wasn't going to let it go. "What I didn't put in my report was what happened right before we encountered the Harvester. I may have missed my shot on Requiem, but this time I didn't even shoot." Palmer hung her head in shame. "She was right there. It would have taken just one round...but I didn't fire."

"Why didn't you?" Musa asked.

"I don't know," Sarah admitted. "I just couldn't do it. I don't have a good reason. I chased her down and caught her, but then we started to argue." Musa raised an eyebrow, silently asking for clarification. "It was all just Halsey trying to buck the blame for what she's done to ONI. She wants so bad to be the victim, and just won't accept that she's a culprit."

"Halsey was never one to accept being at fault, that's for sure. She turned a blind eye to her failures; that's why people like me were left behind by her. At least the UNSC didn't abandon us as quickly." Musa relaxed some before he continued. "So during this argument she got away?"

"She was making a comment about me working for Osman, and I was denying it when she took off. I was going to follow but the Harvester appeared and shot at me." Sarah was embarrassed by what had happened after that. To be taken out by a piece of debris was pathetic. "I'm sorry."

"For what exactly, Spartan?"

"For letting her get away," Palmer answered with remorse. "For failing to stop her again. I let my personal feelings get in the way of me doing my job properly, but I couldn't help but argue. I just can't stand her and her self-righteous attitude. I couldn't just let it go that she's a traitor and just wants to reason away what she's done. How could I say nothing when she claims she only betrayed us because ONI wanted her dead, when the hit on her wasn't ordered until _after_ she helped Jul board the Infinity and got my Spartans killed?" Sarah shut her mouth, realizing that she was being unprofessional.

"I can't say that I wouldn't have done the same thing in your shoes," Musa said, causing Sarah to stare at him in confusion. "I hate that woman and what she did, and I'd love nothing more than to give her a piece of my mind if I could. But I don't think I could just shoot her either. It takes a certain kind of person to be willing to kill someone in cold blood, but those people aren't Spartans. They tend to be grabbed up by ONI."

"That doesn't change the fact that she still got away," Sarah argued. "I...I screwed up again. And this time she has the relic that was all we managed to retrieve from Requiem."

"Not a loss," Musa said, waving off her words. "In fact this might be better than us having either half." Sarah couldn't keep the surprise off of her face. How could such a big loss be the best outcome? "Jul and Halsey wanted that relic enough to waste lives on it, because they wanted it for a reason. ONI is tracking them now; letting Halsey lead us right to whatever was so important that she gave up everything for it. As far as the records are concerned you're the only reason we know that Jul has the whole relic. Before you took a chance and went to hunt down Jul we thought we'd lost both halves. When you stumbled upon the rebels within Jul's ranks handing it over to him, it was only bad luck that a Harvester kept you from retrieving it. But I'd like to see some Admiral sitting behind a desk dare to claim failure in living through a run-in with a Harvester." Sarah nodded, understanding that what Musa just said was basically the cover story for what had really happened. "You did well, Spartan."

"Thank you, Sir, but the both of us know that's bull." Palmer hoped he wouldn't be offended by her bluntness, but he had said it that they weren't having an official conversation. "Halsey got away again because I simply couldn't put the bullet she deserves in her head."

Musa stayed silent for a moment before he spoke. "I don't think that would settle anything; though I have a question. If you had brought her back to Infinity, what exactly did you plan on doing after that?"

"I'd hand her over to Lasky," Sarah answered without hesitation.

"And what would he do with her?" Musa asked. "What would you want him to do?"

"Whatever was right," Sarah stated simply. "I don't know what the right thing to do with her is, but Tom would figure it out. I trust that he would make a reasonable decision, and ensure that she got whatever was coming to her."

"What if he handed her over to ONI?" Musa proposed.

Sarah paused for a moment, and then shook her head. "I don't think he'd do that. He knows what ONI will do, and he doesn't think that's what's right. I don't know exactly what he'd have happen to her, but he'd make sure that Halsey pays in some way - just in a way an ODST doesn't think of."

"She's going to pay, that's for sure, and in a way not even a Captain might think of." Musa leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk. "When we know where Halsey is heading, Infinity is going to go after her. You're going to find out what she wants and take it from right under her nose, and then do what you feel you need to after that. I won't order you to kill her. My only order for you is to be a Spartan when the time comes."

"I don't think I know what a Spartan would do," Sarah admitted. "I'm not half the Spartan you are, and I'm nothing like the Master Chief."

"That could be argued," Musa said under his breath, but Palmer pretended not to hear, not really understanding anyway. "I didn't say for you to be me or the Chief. I said to be a Spartan, which you are. The Spartan-IV project is the final evolution of the Spartan Program, and what it should have been from the start. You are the best the UNSC has; elevated to an even higher caliber of soldier, protecting humanity. When the moment comes, you'll do what a Spartan would."

Sarah still wasn't convinced, but she really didn't have a good argument that he'd accept. "Yes, sir."

Their conversation was interrupted as the office door slid open and the Spartans turned to see Captain Lasky staring at them in surprise. "Sir, I didn't know you were on board."

Lasky moved to salute but Musa held up a hand. "That's because I'm not onboard, Captain." He turned to Palmer and nodded. "You have your orders, Spartan. I'll leave you to your work." Musa backed his wheelchair up and moved toward the door. Tom moved out of the way, letting the Spartan-II exit before he turned to Sarah.

"Don't ask," Sarah said, slumping in her chair. She hadn't realized how rigid her posture had been until Musa had left. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Then I won't," Tom agreed, moving over to his chair. He gripped the back and moved to push it back in place but stopped, instead moving it closer to Palmer's seat. He looked down to the floor for a moment before he looked to her. "I'm sorry."

"And what are you apologizing for?" Sarah asked.

"I screwed up on Requiem, and you stopped me from being hurt by what I did. I have no right to try to assert what I want over what your orders are. I'm sorry for that, and I don't want to cause trouble between us. So although I still want to take Halsey into custody, I fully support you killing her if that's what you have to do."

"I don't even know what I want to do the next time I see her, Tom. I have my orders, but I had them before and still didn't shoot her then," Sarah pointed out. "All I know is that when I became a Spartan I was proud - but now I'm not so sure. The things she did, the rumors...I just can't hold my head as high anymore, and the title doesn't carry the same price."

"You're an amazing soldier, a great leader, and one of the best friends anyone could ask for. That's more than enough to hold your head high for." Sarah smiled at Tom's words, accepting the complement. "And no matter what you choose to do, Sarah, I've got your back."

"Thanks, Tom," Palmer said, feeling a bit more at ease. She hated when things were tense between them or when they were at odds. At the very least it was one less thing she had to concern herself with now. "Well we better get to work. When ONI finds out where Jul is we'll need to be ready."

Tom sighed in frustration. "I don't want to do paper work."

Sarah stood up and placed her hands on her hips. "Get your butt up, Captain Lazy. Don't make me babysit you." Tom didn't move though, and Sarah sighed. "I'll help you with the paper work. I suppose I'm responsible for some of it anyway."

Tom grinned and stood up finally. "Paperwork is easier with some good company."

"Then maybe you should go find that tech on F-Deck that likes to steal glances at you in the shower," Palmer suggested.

"Jealous?" Lasky asked.

"Of her looking at you? No, I've seen you come out of cryo. Why would I be jealous of her looking at a blistered old man?" Tom frowned, and this time there was something genuine to the hurt. Sarah had meant it as a tease but she immediately felt sorry for having offended him. She quickly moved to correct her mistake. "She is the one that should be jealous of me. Because I've seen your little-duck pajama pants and the boxers with the hearts on them."

Tom blushed and Sarah laughed at his embarrassment. "I'm going to go do paperwork," he announced, turning and moving toward the door. Sarah chuckled to herself as she followed him out of the office.


	5. 2546

There were places around a base that, if you wore some manner of military identification, you could get yourself a drink for free. If asked about it the bartenders always reasoned that since the soldiers were risking their lives a free beer wasn't too much to ask for. Of course the reality was that if they got one free drink they usually bought more. So it was just good business practice. It was also the reason why Buck was at this particular bar. As he entered he could see that it was already full of UNSC personnel. He looked around and stopped, seeing a familiar face sitting at the bar.

He approached the woman, and noticed that she was already nursing a bottle of some cheap brand of beer. "Take it easy on those," he said as he took a seat beside her. He looked her over, letting himself enjoy the curves of her figure for a second. The last time he'd seen her she was in armor, but in civilian clothes he couldn't deny she was rather attractive. She was certainly built like an ODST; and there was a smooth, simple beauty to her face. "Don't think the medics would approve of you mixing that with your medications."

The female soldier turned to look at him, staring at him for just a moment before she seemed to recognize him. "I'm not taking them," she informed him. She downed a bit more of her beer before she continued. "What brings you here, Alpha-Nine?"

"Alpha-Nine is my team," he pointed out, but he couldn't help but grin at her using his team's name as his own. "I'm Buck. Edward Buck." The bartender appeared and set an opened bottle down on the counter in front of Buck. He picked it up and nodded to the man before taking a sip. "Why aren't you taking your meds?" She shot him a suspicious look and he understood why. She didn't know him well and, he didn't really know her, so it was a bit odd for him to be asking about her medication. "Saw you in the infirmary, and you've got to be on some stuff based on what I saw." What he left out was that he'd purposefully gone to the infirmary to find out how Sarah was doing. His team had been put in danger to save her, so he wanted to know that she was alright.

"You're a voyeur, Eddie?" Sarah teased with a small laugh. Buck smiled, glad to see that she was in a good mood. "At about the time the doctor started lecturing me about when to take them I tuned him out. So now I figure I might as well just forget them."

"Take your meds, Soldier," Buck asserted. She simply stuck her tongue out at him and Buck sighed. "Hey, I risked my team to save your ass. I don't want that to be a waste because you died from some infection or something."

"None of my medications are like that," Sarah explained. "They're all pain killers really; but I felt that this covered it." She lifted her bottle and downed the rest of it before she set it back on the counter. "Numbs better than anything the docs can give me."

"Amen to that," Buck agreed, taking a long swig of his own drink. "You even old enough to drink this stuff?"

"I will be in a couple years - if I live until then." Sarah raised an eyebrow as Buck shot her a curious look. "What?"

"You're a rookie?" Buck asked, unable to keep the surprise from his voice. Sarah nodded and scowled, turning her attention back to her drink. Buck then realized how his words must have sounded and he quickly clarified. "I just wouldn't have guessed that." Sarah made a face that seemed to convey she was suspicious of him. "I mean the way you handled yourself in the field, I thought you were more experienced. Most rookies freak out when they're faced with death, but you were perfectly calm. Just gave me the feeling of a more experienced trooper is all."

"I'd just watched far more experienced soldiers than me fall, why would I feel like my death wasn't right around the corner?" Sarah asked. She stared at the bottle held loosely in her hand and set it down on the bar top. "I knew that dying was a possibility when I signed up. So it's not like it was a surprise when I was surrounded by enemies with no ammo. You kinda assume that's where it ends, and you just see what you can sink your knife into before it comes." She hesitated for a second before she asked a question that Buck sort of expected. "Does it get any easier? Do you ever get used to watching teammates die?"

Buck didn't answer immediately, and stared at the lines of liquor bottles on the wall behind the bar. "No, it doesn't," he finally said. "It's always hard, but you learn to handle it better. And over time when you lose them you'll know what you need to do." He took a swig of his beer before he continued. "You get more numb to the blood, but sometimes when I've seen teammates die it still sticks with me for days or weeks later. How you are, tired, hungry, or even injured can make you react differently to a teammate's death. But eventually you figure out what works for you. Like for me, a good black out seems to work." He turned to Sarah and frowned. "Had you lost a teammate before?"

"Yeah; but I didn't see him die, and it was just the one time. It was our second mission, clearing some Covenant from a building that was going to be used to airlift out some marines. We were getting onto the ship to leave and Sergeant Pham carried him in. I didn't even hear him scream or any call that a soldier was down. Just a minute earlier he was telling me to get to the Pelican, and the next he was a corpse. This last mission was the first time I'd ever actually seen anyone fall in battle. It started with Sergeant Pham. Then I was in charge and...and I failed my team. I watched them die. They were my responsibility." Sarah's gaze had become unfocused and she was staring right through the bottle in her hand.

"You didn't fail anyone," Buck tried to assure her. "You were in a bad position and were just lucky we got there soon enough that we could save you. Sometimes you're in a situation where no matter what people will die. You can't always do anything about it, and anyone making it out is a surprise. You actually did really well considering the circumstances. Had you ever even been in charge before?" Sarah shook her head and motioned to the bartender then to her drink, calling for another. "You handled it as best you could."

"No I didn't," Sarah refuted, pushing her empty bottle away from her as the bartender arrived with a fresh one.

"Eventually you'll realize you did," Buck said drinking a bit more of his own beer. It wasn't his responsibility, or within his ability, to get Sarah to let it go. She'd have to come to that conclusion on her own. "At least you'll get some time out of combat. And after one of those quick psych evaluations they'll put you on a new team." Sarah grunted and Buck cocked his head. "Not happy with some time off?"

"After screwing up and getting people killed, the last thing I want to do is sit around and do nothing useful." Sarah took another swig of her drink. "I like being an ODST - killing alien bastards and giving other soldiers and civilians a chance. I don't want to sit around and wait for some other stuck up guy that knows nothing about what it's like to go through this sort of thing to tell me when I can get back to work."

Buck remained silent for a moment, drinking more of his beer to busy himself. He couldn't really argue against what she was saying and he didn't really have a right to. He would give anything for some time off, a little rest, but he hadn't watched his team die during the last mission. He glanced over to his right and got an idea. "Well, I can't do anything about how soon you get back to the fight...but maybe I can take your mind off your troubles." He stood up and motioned for her to follow.

Sarah hesitated for a moment before she stood as well and they walked over to the game tables that were off to the side of the barroom. "Do you even know how to play pool?" She asked as Buck moved over to grab two of the poles.

"Yes, I actually do," he informed her as he passed her one of the sticks. He moved over to the table and started to rack up the balls. "Do you know how to play?"

"I remember most of the rules, but I've never actually played," Sarah answered, watching as he set the balls in the triangular holder. "But I hit things for a living. So I think I can hit some balls."

Buck smiled and removed the plastic ring, stepping around the table to Sarah's side. "I'll let you break first," he offered, moving around the table and leaning over and lining up his shot. His eyes momentarily shifted to look at Palmer, who was watching him, her eyes clearly not focused on his face. Buck couldn't help but feel a primal need to show off to her and not mess this up. In the back of his mind he knew it was maybe wrong for him to be thinking of Sarah in that way, but she was attractive and he wasn't dead. He made his shot and the white ball hit the others, sending them bouncing around the table. He watched as they scattered and he sunk three of the balls. "Well I guess I'm taking solids." He looked over the table and decided that he hadn't been dealt a very good hand for either. He lined up his shot and hit the solid four-ball closer to a pocket, which would make it much easier on his next turn. He turned and smiled at Sarah, motioning to the table. "Your turn, Trooper."

"I guess so," Sarah agreed, moving around the table, looking over the field. "I know the rules but, as I said, I've never played. How exactly do I do this?" She smiled and moved to stand beside Buck. "Mind showing me?"

Buck paused for a moment, wondering exactly what she was thinking. The way she looked at him and held herself seemed to indicate she was flirting, but he found it hard to believe such a beautiful and young woman would be interested in him. "Well you just need to pick a ball to hit. I would suggest the three-ball, as it's a clear shot, and then you line it up." Buck led her around the table to where the white ball was lined up with the three-ball. "Then you just lean over." He moved to stand behind Palmer and she followed his lead, setting her stick on the table. Buck tried to ignore the way as she moved to be careful her leg touched his, but maybe she didn't want him to ignore it. "Now you need to look down the pole," he instructed.

"I have no idea if I'm even holding this thing right; and how am I supposed to know if I'm aiming properly?" Sarah asked.

"Well you just have to have the right posture," Buck explained, moving to guide her arms to the right position. Sarah pushed her body back so that she was pressed against him. Buck got the message loud and clear. Even if he was uneasy about the difference in their ages she sure wasn't. Maybe it had been too long since he'd been with a woman, maybe he just really liked her looks and personality, or maybe he really didn't care as much as he thought about the age gap, because he took up the invitation for more intimate flirting. He let his hand slowly move over her arm until he reached her hand, molding it over hers as he lined their bodies up. She was completely relaxed with his touch and the slight smile on her face made him sure she was getting exactly what she wanted. Buck set his chin on her shoulder and whispered into her ear. "Grip the stick lightly, line it up with the center of the ball, and use the line of the pole like the sights of a gun to point directly at the center of the three-ball." His hands slid from her hands to settle on her wrists. "Give it one good push and you'll sink the shot," he finished, moving his head to lightly touch his lips to her ear as he spoke. "Though it might take a while to get exactly how hard to push, or how fast, to get that perfect hit," he warned.

Sarah thrust her pool stick forward, and Buck watched as the white ball hit the three, slightly to the side, sinking the three-ball in the pocket and positioning her for a second shot on another striped ball. "Or maybe I don't need as much practice as you thought," Sarah said standing up, causing Buck to take a step away. She had a satisfied smirk on her face and he wondered if she had lied to him about not knowing how to play pool. Sarah moved around the table and lined up her next shot. Buck watched as she knocked the ball across the table, sinking one ball and putting herself in a good position yet again.

Buck raised an eyebrow and narrowed his gaze. "You wouldn't be hustling me, would you, Soldier?" he asked, suspicious of her skill.

"I'm just a fast learner," Sarah answered, with a grin that told him she wasn't just talking about pool. "With a little instruction I can do all kinds of things." She took a step back and motioned to the table. "Your turn." Buck couldn't help but grin as he moved to take his shot.

Pool turned out to be a better idea than Buck had expected, and a half hour later they were on their tie breaking game. Buck was having fun and definitely enjoying Sarah's company. She was currently leaning over, lining up her next shot, and Buck was standing back shamelessly watching her ass. She made her shot and Buck didn't bother trying to hide where his eyes had been.

"Have fun with that shot," Sarah said, moving to stand beside Buck. She leaned against the wall beside him. "It's a tight squeeze."

Buck stood up from the wall and took a slight step toward Sarah, moving so that he was in her personal space but not touching her. "My ball might be a bit big for the gap but..." Buck smirked and Sarah smiled in response. "I'm sure I can make it fit."

"It's not just about making it fit," Sarah said without hesitation; she leaned in toward him. "You need to know how to use your pole so you can sink the shot without ending the game prematurely by hitting the eight-ball instead...like last game." Her smile turned into a teasing grin and Buck let out a short laugh before he turned toward the table.

Buck lined up his shot, looking at the solid colored ball which was beside the eight-ball. He stopped and stood up, turning back to see that Sarah was eyeing him up. He let her gaze linger on his body for a moment before he spoke. "You know, I just realized we never made a bet on this game."

Sarah raised an eyebrow and Buck moved to stand before her. "What do you wanna bet?"

Buck paused for a moment before he decided that there was no harm in taking a chance. "Well, whoever wins can settle our bar tabs," Buck began, earning him a curious look from Palmer. Buck gave her a charming smile and leaned in a bit toward her. "And the loser pays for the hotel room."

Sarah smirked in a familiar way that Buck knew meant she had the same ideas that he did. "I'll take that bet." Buck nodded and moved toward the table and leaned over again, lining up his shot once more. Sarah moved around to the opposite side of the table, leaning forward in a way that was obviously an effort to distract him. "You'll have to hit that sweet spot just right if you want to make this shot," she observed.

"Oh, I am an expert at hitting that one special spot," Buck replied, trying to keep his eyes on the balls he was aiming at. It was a difficult shot for sure, and unless he got it perfect he was going to hit the eight ball into a pocket with three balls still on the table. His gaze lifted for just a moment to the female ODST and then dropped back to the balls and he made a decision. He hit the shot and watched as the ball he'd been aiming at dropped off the table, soon followed by the eight-ball dropping into the pocket across the table. Buck stood up to face the triumphantly grinning Palmer. "Guess you better settle our tabs."

Buck then moved toward her, pressing their bodies close and enjoying the warmth of a willing partner. Buck closed the remaining space, covering her mouth with his in an exploratory kiss. Sarah's reaction was enthusiastic, and her hand on his side gave away exactly how excited she was. Buck had to force himself to break away from her no matter how much he wanted to just continue their activity right there. "Settle the tab and I'll find us a hotel." Buck took a step back and Sarah moved away toward the bar. He then pulled out his compad, and started to search for a place nearby that had some available rooms.


	6. Father

Father

Sarah sat alone in the bar, staring down at the glass of liquid she'd barely touched. There wasn't a point in trying to drink her troubles away, her augmentations made it so she couldn't numb herself with alcohol the way she did during her ODST days. She'd been sitting in the booth for the last ten minutes just trying to sort through the torrent of emotions that she was currently fighting while she waited. A quick glance at her com-pad showed he was later than she'd estimated, and she was starting to get antsy. She looked like a fool sitting there on her own; with a barely finished drink and glancing toward the door every minute to see if he'd arrived yet. She already felt ridiculous enough wearing her dress uniform, but she'd just put that with the collection of mistakes she'd made that day.

The door to the bar opened and finally the man she'd been waiting on entered. He wore a pair of slightly faded jeans and a gray shirt with the UNSC logo over the left breast. He spotted her immediately and made a b-line to her booth. He set his carry-bag on the bench opposite her and slid in beside it. "I came when I got your message," he told her as he settled into his seat. His eyes were studying her, looking for any sign or signal. "It didn't go well." It was a statement, not a question. But Sarah would think him an idiot if after getting a from her while she was crying that he'd thought everything went well.

She inwardly cringed when she remembered the rushed call she'd made to him when the emotions had been at their highest and she had crumbled under them. She'd choked out her request for them to meet between shaking breaths and attempts to muffle sobs. It was another thing on her list of the day's mistakes. "That's a bigger understatement than Scrugg's comment about Hunter's having thick armor." She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

"Tell me what happened," he prompted, giving her his full attention.

* * *

Sarah heard the doorbell echo inside the house from where she stood at the front door. Usually it would still sound muffled, but with how tense she was feeling her enhanced senses were kicked into high gear so to her it sounded loud and clear. She could also hear the footsteps as they approached and she braced herself. The door slid open and she looked down at the man who stood before her. He was a few inches shorter than her, his hair and beard a solid gray, and his face was more wrinkled than she remembered. There was still the strong bone structure under those wrinkles, but the years hadn't been particularly kind. Her nose immediately caught the scent of alcohol and from the lack of focus in his gaze she could tell he was drunk.

"Hi Dad," Sarah managed to get out but there was nothing else she could think to say.

"Hello, Sarah," her father greeted, though she noted the slight slur of the 'S' in her name. He turned and walked away from the door and Sarah took that as her invitation to come in. She made sure to shut the door behind her and followed him to the kitchen where he sat down at the table. Sarah took the seat beside him, settling into silence. She didn't really know what to say to him, and she'd never had to deal with her father being drunk either, so she didn't know what to expect.

"How have you been?" Sarah asked, figuring that maybe some small talk was a good place to start.

Her father ignored the question and scowled. "Why are you wearing that?"

Sarah looked down at her dress uniform then back to the man beside her. "I had to meet with an Admiral. He wanted to congratulate me on my promotion." In truth it had been more of a political move on the Admiral's part, as being friendly with a newly promoted Spartan officer was a good way to maybe garner some favor. But Sarah wasn't about to tell her father that. "I was recently made Spartan Commander. I lead all five hundred Spartan-IVs on board the UNSC Infinity." Sarah sat up taller as she spoke of her new station. It was a heavy responsibility, one she wasn't sure she was worthy of, but she'd accepted the post and would do her best. And it was still a big feat for someone her age to be promoted to such a position. She was currently in command of more Spartans than any Spartan before her ever had been, a fact that she was proud of but also terrified by all at the same time.

"You look ridiculous," her father said with a derisive huff. His dismissal of her accomplishment hurt more than Sarah had expected. She hated to admit it, but she'd stupidly been hoping he'd be proud of her. She'd thought she was past wanting his praise...but apparently she hadn't outgrown that. Apparently she was still the same child scribbling with crayons and hoping her father would pin her work to the fridge - which he never would. There had never been decorations on their fridge. She remembered seeing pictures put on the fridge at her friend's houses and the smile of pride on their parents face as they praised their child. Her father didn't praise.

"Head of the toy soldiers all standing in a line, watching the people burn. Just to stand by and let Eridanus be invaded and glassed." Her father's words were low and he was clearly bitter. If it had been anyone else she would have let out a string of curses and told him where to shove his opinion. But this wasn't some random person; it was her father, so she kept her mouth shut. He'd always been against the UNSC, but it seemed that whatever filter he usually had in regard to talking about it was weakened by alcohol. Either that, or he'd become more anti-military over the years and it had just been that long since they'd last spoken. "Just another weapon to use against the people who want to be free while they stand by and let corruption spread."

Finally Sarah had had enough and decided to speak up. "You can't have it both ways. You can't claim to want freedom, but say when the UNSC tries to protect people we're tyrants. You can't demand we leave people alone and then turn around and get mad when we do it." As soon as she said the words she knew that she should have kept her mouth shut. Her father had always believed that children should be seen rather than heard, and the last time they'd discussed the UNSC she'd left the house for good to become an ODST. "The UNSC can't do anything if the people can't decide if they want the help."

"You don't understand," her father snapped, his anger evident. "You never did know what the UNSC was really like. You never saw them as the monsters they are."

"I understand that they are the reason why humanity is still around today, and not burned completely to ash by the Covenant. I know that they're the only ones that can stop the rebels from killing innocent people." Sarah couldn't back down now. If she did then she'd be relenting to her father's view and admitting she was wrong. And Sarah wasn't about to do that, even if this was her father. "Out of the two of us, only one has actual experience with what the UNSC does."

"You always thought you understood things that you knew nothing about." Her father frowned and shook his head. "Your brother would've thought differently. He was smart enough that he would have been able to see what the UNSC really is."

That comment struck a nerve that Palmer wasn't prepared to deal with. She'd expected they'd probably end up arguing about the UNSC, but she hadn't expected her father to bring her brother up. "How would you know? He died before he was even old enough to have an opinion on the UNSC." Her brother had passed away when he was only a child, long before Sarah was born, but her father would sometimes talk about him. She'd been painfully aware growing up that her father would have preferred having her brother back rather than her, and it had always been a raw point for her.

"I know more about him than you. What do you really know about anything?" her father growled out.

"At least I know that a father shouldn't need to be drunk to talk to his daughter." Sarah's words were harsh and bitter, letting out some of her pain. His current condition was clearly evident that he couldn't face her coming to visit him while being sober. "What would mom think of you if she could see you right now?" Bringing up her mother was a bit of a cheap shot, but she deemed it was only fair after he'd mentioned her sibling.

"You don't know anything about your mother either," her father nearly shouted. "If the UNSC had saved Eridanus then your mother wouldn't have killed herself." Sarah was stunned to silence by his words, but he didn't seem to notice. "If she were here now, I'm sure she'd think I was handling your betrayal better than expected."

* * *

"My father always told me that my mother had an illness, and that it killed her - which I guess is still true," Sarah scowled and let out a long breath. "So after he dropped that on me, that's when the arguing really started. He said he'd never told me the whole truth because he wanted to preserve my memory of my mother, and I argued that I didn't have any memories of her to preserve. I ended up storming out of the house and that's when I called you." Sarah smiled at the man across from her. "Thanks for coming. And I'm sorry you had to hear me like that, Tom."

Tom had listened to the entire story without a word, just sipping at the drink she'd long ago abandoned. "Of course I would come, Sarah. Though when I was called by a sobbing Spartan I felt like some tragedy must have happened, and that you were mortally wounded or something. I'm just happy to find out you aren't dying."

"No, just completely ruing what possible reconciliation I could have had with my father." Sarah slouched in her seat and wished yet again that she could drink these troubles away.

"It was unfair of him to drop something that big, something he'd been lying to you about, out of nowhere like that," Tom said. "You went there with intentions of being civil, but when the conversation starts out with one of you needing to be drunk I can't see a good ending to it. I'm glad you seem to have calmed down now, though."

"I had a long ride from Luna to be able to get a grip on myself. I don't even know why I was so upset," Sarah admitted. "I guess I was angry he didn't tell me how my mother really died, but I don't know why. I don't remember my mother, so why should I care if something I thought I knew about her was a lie? Why does knowing that she killed herself hurt?" Tom wisely stayed silent, not interjecting at the moment. "I mean, I guess it doesn't surprise me that my father didn't tell me. He never did treat me like I could handle things. Though I'm still mad at him for lying all these years. Even if I don't remember her, I have a right to know the truth about her, at least when I'm old enough to understand." She let silence hang for a couple seconds before she spoke again. "You were right. I shouldn't have gone to see him."

"It wasn't wrong for you to have gone to see him," Tom said, smiling slightly at her. "From what you've told me of how things have been between you and your father I'm actually proud of you for doing so. You tried to build a bridge, and although he didn't want to you at least tired. That's more than you ever needed to do. It didn't turn out the way you wanted, but you won't live with the regret of never trying."

"I don't know which is worse," Sarah admitted. "If I hadn't gone I would have regretted it, but there always would have been that thought that things could have been good. Is that regret worse than knowing that there is no patching things up now? Is it better than knowing that no matter what I do my father will never be proud of me, and just pining for my dead brother? Is it better than knowing I wasn't good enough for my mother to want to live for?"

"Depressed people don't think like that, Sarah," Tom interjected. "Part of being suicidal means thinking people don't want them or don't need them."

"I was three," Sarah countered. "What three-year-old doesn't need their mother?"

"I didn't say their thinking was logical, only that wasn't how they thought. Of course you needed your mother, but people suffering from those conditions don't think anyone cares that they're alive or wants them to be alive." Sarah didn't try to refute Tom, and he accepted her silence. "I'm sorry that your father isn't proud of what you've accomplished. I had to work for years to become a Commander, and without wanting it you've achieved that with no real leadership training ahead of time."

"I'm not sure how much of an accomplishment it is then. I mean Musa seems to think that I can do it, but I don't have any real idea how to be a Spartan Commander."

"I trust in Musa, and I know that you'll do excellent," Tom assured her. "I have faith in you." He smiled at her and Sarah couldn't help but smile in return. "Maybe I can actually make you a bit happier, because I have something for you." Tom picked up a box that he'd put on the seat beside him and set it on the table.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, but the smile on Lasky's face made her curious. She reached out, slid the box closer, and opened it. She stared down at the items inside and glanced across the table at Lasky. He was now watching her with anticipation, waiting to see her reaction. She picked out one of the items and lifted it up, examining it. "Is that my helmet...in cookie form?"

"I was worried you wouldn't be able to tell what they were, but I guess you can." Tom sounded relieved and the smile on his face was wider. Sarah looked back to the cookie in her hand and had to admit it was a little difficult to discern that the triangular shape was her helmet, but there was little else she would recognize that was white with lines of red and a bar of blue. She looked to the other cookies and noticed that they were all varying things that related to the UNSC. There was a misshapen bird that she suspected was supposed to be the Spartan eagle, as well as one that was doubled-barred like a Commander's stripes. "They're sugar cookies so they're your favorite kind. They're my way of saying congratulations on your promotion."

"Thank you, Tom. This does make me feel better," Sarah said with a smile. "I can't believe that you made these for me."

"Well I had some free time, so I went to meet up with an old classmate from CAMS and her daughter basically demanded that we make cookies. She agreed to help me make you a special gift. Though I doubt that you'll be able to tell which of us decorated which, because I was pretty awful at it."

"I love them, Tom," Sarah reassured him, setting the cookie back in the box. "Though I almost don't want to eat them because they're so nice."

"They aren't that good; you don't have to pander to me, Sarah." Tom shook his head slightly with an amused smile. "It's nothing special."

"No, it is," Sarah refuted. "I went to see my father to try to rebuild my family, but the UNSC's given me a better one." She paused for a moment and stood from the table. "Come on, let's find a theater nearby and check out if there are any movies that we haven't seen yet."

Tom stood and followed her as she started to move toward the door. "If I didn't know any better, Commander Palmer, I'd think you were asking me on a date."

"Good thing you know better," Sarah shot back. "You should know I expect the man to be the one to ask."


	7. 2554

2554

**Author's note: **This chapter takes place during the book New Blood. Part of it is actually the text from New Blood.

The front of the place still bore bullet holes and plasma scars. They kind of added to its charm. At least they'd cleaned up the blood.

The inside looked like someone had gutted it from stem to stern and then gotten bored with the refurb and just started tossing tables and stools into it until it felt more like a bar. The place stood empty except for a couple of retired fishers who were old enough to prefer talking about the sea to actually being on it. I didn't recognize the bartender, but that wasn't any surprise either.

After a bit of chitchat, I started in on a bottle of some local-made baijiu. I didn't have any plans to stop.

I was half way through my drink when Sarah sat herself down in the seat beside me. She didn't say anything, or really make any sign she was aware that I was beside her, so I ignored her as well. The bartender approached and set a drink down in front of her without comment and giving her a charming smile. I couldn't help but feel jealous. Not because he was flirting with her, but because her drink was free and also a higher quality alcohol than my own.

"Must be desperate," I couldn't help but mutter. Maybe I just didn't care, but I didn't bother to hold back my annoyance at the person beside me. Maybe I'm not as above the ODST tradition of hating Spartans as I want to be.

"You're only insulting yourself." Sarah's words startled me and I tried my hardest not to look surprised. I didn't know she'd heard me and I probably wouldn't have been as brave in insulting a Spartan if I did. "If he's desperate, so were you."

"That was completely different." Which wasn't really true, as the situation was a lot like what happened eight years ago. The lie was that I'd been desperate. Even after all these years Sarah still looked like that ODST I'd pulled out of the fire - almost as though the war hadn't touched her. But I knew better than to think any ODST could have gotten out of the war unaffected. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I'm here to pay your tab while you get plastered." Sarah took a swig of her drink, and to her credit she didn't seem to notice how bad it was. "So order whatever you think will get you wasted the fastest."

"If you're looking for a repeat of eight years ago, I'm in a committed relationship now." She laughed in response and I couldn't help but be offended. I still remembered our encounter, and her being content at the end of the night. "You weren't laughing back then." I'm not proud of snapping at her, but I'm not above pride.

"I also wasn't a Spartan back then." She calmed her laughter and was grinning like I should have expected. She may have been a Spartan, but from how much pleasure she took from my discomfort she was clearly still an ODST. "Back then I couldn't crush your bones with one hand. If we repeated that night's events now, you'd be dead."

I wasn't sure if she was making a threat or not. I mean with Jun I could tell when the man was serious, but with Sarah I couldn't stop seeing her as an ODST, which made her harder to read. "Well if you aren't interested in screwing me, I know you aren't here simply to get me drunk."

"Well I might be here for more than just helping you drown whatever sorrows you have. I might be here because Jun told me that you turned down the offer to become a Spartan."

"So you came to take a crack at it." I couldn't understand why she thought she could convince me when Jun couldn't. Then again I didn't really know Sarah well enough to know what she was capable of at that point. It was sort of stupid of me to still think of the Spartan who had saved my rear as the ODST I'd saved years before...but we all make mistakes. "Do you know why I said no?"

"Yeah." Sarah had a cocky smile on her face and I wasn't sure if it was because she was actually confident, or just part of the posturing ODST made a habit of. "If there's one thing I know about you, Buck, it's that you're a loyal man. You don't abandon your soldiers." I knew that she wasn't only talking about my current team. "They're starting up a second class of Spartan-IVs. And lucky for you the first class surpassed expectations so the second class has been allotted a bigger budget. One big enough for you, your rocket jockey, and your pain-in-the-ass marksman."

"What about Dutch?"

"His heart isn't with the UNSC anymore. It's with his wife, and she's not a soldier."

She was right, and it made me wonder about myself for a moment. I wasn't married to Veronica, but I loved her like I'd never loved anyone before.

I needed to tell her that.

I'd considered what life after the war would be like with her. A reasonable apartment on Mars? Maybe a ranch in Draco III? A house filled with a child's laughter?

But those were all just daydreams I indulged in when things were quiet. The thing was that Veronica was doing work she was proud of and was doing good for humanity - even if my security clearance wasn't high enough to know what that entailed exactly. And I liked to think I was doing some good myself too.

Maybe one day we'd settle down. Make a new life. Stop just trying to protect what we had now that survived the war...but not today. I didn't have a right to make that choice alone anyway.

"Would they have taken the Rookie?" It didn't matter now, but I couldn't help but ask.

Sarah gave me a look that told me I shouldn't ask questions like that. Every ODST comes to a point where they get that look from a fellow trooper. It's always because someone's dead. Still she indulged my question, answering in a classic ODST way. Knocking me down a peg. "What makes you think he wasn't already being considered without you?"

I don't really know what answer I had been hoping for, but Sarah gave me the right one. I still planned on hiding away in the bottle in my hand but I did feel better. I'd have to be careful not to overindulge though, or I might end up in a motel room with Sarah. I certainly didn't want to do that to Veronica, but few things helped the grieving process like getting drunk.

"Mind if I make my own...argument?" Sarah had dropped the cocky demeanor, either having realized she'd appropriately countered my objection to becoming a Spartan or she was genuinely serious. I nodded, giving her permission to continue, curious as to what she wanted to say.

There's a certain tone an ODST uses when they want another ODST to know that they're absolutely serious. I didn't need to have ever heard it from Sarah before to recognize it. "At this moment I could break your neck with a flick of my wrist before you'd even realized I'd moved. That's a lot of power for one person to have. Super strength, speed, sight, hearing, and healing. In comic books the good guy gets these powers and rise to the responsibility, or fall and become a villain. But what if you get to decide who gets the powers, not leave it up to fate? You'd be damn sure that your super-humans would be heroes, not villains."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"You'd be a hero, Buck. You'd be a hero that others could follow and learn from. What I'm saying is the Spartans need people like you."

"Why would they need me? They've got you."

"According to the Captain I've got an attitude problem." Sarah scowled, and I couldn't help but smile. It was one of those grouchy-old-man scowls, but Palmer still looked so young that it was out of place. "It's why I avoid interacting with him. Well that, and the fact that the Commander is cute and far better at making conversation."

"Is he a Spartan?"

"No, but unlike a certain ODST I know of the Commander is far more...commanding." I laughed and it felt good. When someone dies on your team there's a span of time it feels like laughing is wrong to do no matter the reason. The time is different for each person, but when you get past it, get that first laugh, it's like everything settles and you can look forward to the future again. "So what do I tell Jun?" Sarah asked.

"There's someone I need to talk to before I decide." I needed to speak to Veronica about all this and get where she stood before I could really give an answer.

"I'm not looking for a 'yes' or 'no' right now. Just a 'make the offer' or 'go to Hell'."

"Make the offer," I told her as I raised my bottle. She lifted hers, and we knocked them together and downed what was left.


	8. 2556

Being augmented poses a particular problem that is very unique to Spartans: namely, where to get a good workout. When you have super-human strength you can lift the same amount of weight a professional body builder would struggle with and not break a sweat. That problem was the reason why a good deal of research and money had been put into designing a gym on Infinity's S-Deck where a Spartan could exercise effectively. The gravity in the gym was higher than normal, so the only soldiers who were ever there were S-IVs. But at times like this, when the Spartans were running war games, it was oddly quiet. But that was exactly why Buck had chosen this time to get his blood pumping. He sat on one of the stationary bikes that had been specially designed to provide the resistance that a Spartan needed. He settled into place and stated to peddle. His forearms rested against the handle bars as he worked into a steady pace.

"No upper body routine today?" a voice asked, catching Buck's attention. He looked over to see Sarah Palmer approaching, dressed in simple workout clothing. "You do realize that ladies only care about how you look from the waist up, right?"

"My girlfriend like my butt," Buck defended as he slightly arched his back so his rear stuck out. "She thinks it's a work of art."

"She must also think your finger paintings belong in a museum," Sarah shot back. "There are exceptions to the rule of course, but you..." Her eyes looked him over and she shook her head. "You're not one of them. You're better off focusing on your top half."

"And why should I take your advice?" Buck asked.

"'Cause I've seen what's under those shorts and I know what I'm talking about." Sarah smirked and set her arm against the handle bars of the stationary bike. "Besides, the upper half needs work anyway."

"You're just full of insults today, aren't you?" Buck muttered, though Palmer seemed undeterred. "Are you this mean to your boyfriend?" It was a fairly obvious attempt to fish for details, but gathering personal information through taunting or flirting was just the ODST way. And old habits die hard.

"If there were anything to mock about my boyfriend, I would," Sarah answered. "He doesn't give me easy fodder the way you do. You've also got the classic easily-bruised ODST ego."

"I'm a Spartan now," Buck reminded her.

"In rank and body, but your pride is still a Trooper's." Sarah stood from where she was leaning. "Come on; get a real workout from something that's alive." She turned and started walking away.

Buck slowly stopped peddling and watched her. "I'm in a committed relationship, remember?" He shamefully let his eyes take in all of her as she walked until she stopped and he realized she was standing beside the boxing ring that was set in the center of the room. "Oh," he muttered, finally dismounting his bike. "Or we could spar."

"What kind of a woman do you think I am, Eddie?" Palmer asked, a teasing smirk on her face. "I'm in a very committed relationship too. Besides, I don't go for rookies."

"I'm nearly twenty years your senior and I'm the rookie? I was in boot when you were in diapers." Buck slipped between the ropes and into the ring. "You sure you can keep up, Kid?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Palmer countered as she entered the ring as well. "I can hear your old bones creaking from across the room. You sure you aren't going to break a hip?"

"So I'm old but also a rookie?" Buck lifted his arms into a defensive position, hands balled into fists. Palmer took a similar stance; though he noted that her shoulders were more set, her fists were more tightly clenched than his, and her guard was a bit closer to her body. "How'd you get out of war games? The other Spartans said the Commander is a real hard ass about getting your hours in."

"Already got in my hours," Sarah responded, starting to move toward the center of the ring. Buck moved closer as well, watching carefully for what she'd do. She had been the one to suggest a sparring match and he didn't know how good she was at close quarters fighting. Sarah could be a black belt who would beat him in seconds or no better than a drunken brawler at a bar for all he knew. "You're still waiting for your proper assignment so I suppose that's why you aren't showing up the other Spartans in the sims."

"And now I'm a rookie but I'd show up the other Spartans? Make up your mind." Buck decided that he'd get the ball rolling making a few testing jabs at the female Spartan. She stepped aside one and blocked the second. "Seems like you don't trust your teammates."

"'Rookie' also means 'new', Idiot," Palmer informed him, taking a couple strikes at him which he blocked. "You're still a Trooper, and can show up the flight jockeys. Well, at least you can now that you're a Spartan." Palmer made a harder strike and Buck backed up as he blocked the blow.

"So I'm not as good as a pilot turned Spartan," Buck summarized. "Where do I stand against Coast Guard Spartans then?"

"You don't need to be a Spartan to beat them," Palmer answered with a smirk. Buck chuckled, enjoying the old branch pride. He supposed he was mocking his own outfit now though, as the Spartans were separate from the branches they drew from. "So why'd you give up your squad?" she asked. The question was a surprise and Buck didn't know how to respond. "It's just that you refused to become a Spartan without them, but now you're fine being separated."

"Yeah, well...when I signed up to be a Spartan I thought I knew my team." Buck remembered Mickey's betrayal, and the anger he still held reared its ugly head. He vented his frustration by taking a few good swings at Palmer but she deflected them, leaving him tense. He considered that was possibly her plan, to get him upset and throw off his guard, but even in the context of their sparring match that didn't make sense. "I wasn't sure if I could trust them anymore."

"That's really comforting to your fellow Spartans, I'm sure," Sarah replied. "That just means if your sniper goes rebel now he'll only kill people he doesn't know. Should weigh much easier on his mind." Sarah took a few surprisingly hard strikes and Buck winced as he deflected the last of them. "Will it be less of a burden for you to not know if he ever hurt anyone? Out of sight out of mind."

"That's not..." Buck took a deep breath to collect himself and not let the accusation get to him. "That's not what happened. I never told them to separate us, just that I didn't want to lead anymore." He hadn't really thought about if there was a possibility that Romeo would go turncoat as well, or if he did that it might be Buck's fault. "I trusted Mickey, and he turned around and stabbed me in the back. I should have seen it. I should have been able to do something. But I didn't, and I couldn't. I wasn't sure if I could lead a team. But I was sure I didn't want to."

"So things got a little tough and you backed down from command?" Palmer asked, clearly judging him. Buck scowled, knowing that she was trying to bait him. "I guess becoming a Spartan must have taken some of the ODST out of you after all, because Troopers don't run away when things get rough."

"Like you have a right to judge me," Buck growled, annoyed at having his honor as an ODST called into question. "You think that leading a fireteam means you understand what I've been through? And it wasn't just that one incident."

"You mean what happened when you were in training?" Palmer asked, taking a few steps back herself, giving Buck some breathing room. "I know all about that, and it doesn't change anything really. If anything it should have made it more clear why the Spartans need more soldiers like you - people that can be trusted."

"How do you know I'm not secretly a rebel spy?" Buck countered, their sparring basically forgotten. "You sure you can trust me?"

"Don't do that, Buck," Palmer snapped, her voice giving away how mad she actually was. But Buck wasn't going to back down; he couldn't with his pride already in question. She charged toward him and he found himself on his heels trying to defend himself from her barrage. Buck tried to make a few strikes when there were openings but the ones that hit seemed to not deter her attack. He was caught completely off guard as her leg struck out, knocking his feet out from under him. Buck winced as his back slammed to the mat and suddenly Palmer was on top of him. She was straddling his waist as one of her hands gripped his neck and her other arm was pulled back, fist ready to strike his face. "Don't," she warned.

Buck lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. He could see the anger on her face, but his ODST-side kicked in and he grinned. "This brings back good memories."

Sarah visibly eased up as her hand moved away from his throat and her fist unclenched. "Damn it, Buck." She let out a long breath and Buck then saw what he could only call fatigue. "Just...Don't make me doubt you." Her shoulders slumped and the grin faded from Buck's face. "I need to be able to trust you."

"You can," Buck assured her, understanding now that it wasn't just him who had been shaken by Mickey's betrayal. "You can trust me, Palmer." She seemed to relax and Buck did as well, a mutual show of confidence. "The only thing you need to worry about with me is maybe stealing a peek at you when we're coming out of cryo."

"I'm not much worried about that," Sarah responded, a small smile sneaking onto her face. She leaned forward so her hands were resting on the mat on either side of his head. She leaned down and her smile turned to a seductive smirk that brought back some old memories for Buck. "I think the one that should really be worried is your girlfriend." Someone cleared his throat and Sarah's gaze turned from Buck to someone standing outside the ring. "One of the exceptions."

Buck strained to see the man who was standing at the side of the boxing ring. All he could tell was he wasn't tall enough to be a Spartan, and he seemed to be wearing an officer's combat uniform. Buck knew he should stand up and salute but Palmer hadn't moved from where she was seated on top of him.

"Hey there, Commander Sexy," Sarah greeted, a friendly smile on her face. "How can I help you?"

"You can start by having a last name that rhymes with something inappropriate so I make a good comeback," the Commander answered, sounding amused. "I need a moment of your time if you can spare it."

"Sure thing, Lasky," Sarah said as she finally stood from where she'd had Buck pinned down. "Just give us another minute here, and then I'll be all yours."

Buck was finally able to sit up and now turn to look at the officer. He wasn't particularly handsome, but he wasn't bad looking either. He was staring up at Sarah as she leaned against the ropes and he had a grin on his face. "That sounds fantastic," the Commander responded, lingering for a second before he turned to step away.

Buck stood up and moved to stand beside Sarah, watching the Commander walk toward the exit, probably eager to get out of the high-gravity gym. "Is there anyone you don't flirt with?" he asked.

"Flirting is a good way to make friends," Sarah commented. "As long as both parties understand that it's not serious then there's no harm in it. Besides, it's not a bad idea to have a good relationship with the XO."

"So that's why you're not in the sims," Buck commented, his tone between mocking and indignation. "Flirt with the Spartan Commander and you get out of the war games."

"I don't flirt with the Spartan Commander," Sarah informed him. "I don't even like her most of the time." Buck wasn't really sure how to respond to that so he just kept his mouth shut. When in doubt, being quiet at least prevented accidentally insulting someone. "But Commander Lasky is a good man who can really help out the Spartans, so of course I want to have a pleasant working relationship with him. And Tom is my friend. I trust him."

Buck threw up his hands in surrender. "I can understand that," he admitted. "I've flirted with a friend or two, they're just usually fellow Troopers."

"Troopers aren't as much fun to flirt with as Spartans. Plus I like Lasky's guts for being willing to make comments about wanting to plow me, so I'd have to say he's more of an ODST than some marines I've known. And no one will flirt with me since my promotion so I'll take what fun I can get."

"I know you're an intimidating woman, but I wouldn't let the fact you're a fireteam leader keep me from telling you how nice you look in that workout gear. And I'm sure I'd have a comment or two about how well the body suit hugs your every curve." Buck grinned and leaned his side against the ropes. "I'm sure when you turn away you get plenty of looks as well."

"Looks aren't fun," Sarah commented. "I can't flirt back to a look, particularly when I don't see it."

"Well then I promise to peep openly," Buck joked. She rewarded him with an amused grin and slight laugh.

"I appreciate that, Eddie." Sarah slipped between the ropes and looked up at Buck. "Just keep that promise in mind when you realize that I'm not a fireteam leader. I am the Spartan Commander." Buck couldn't keep the dumbstruck look off of his face. "Enjoy the rest of your work out, Spartan, and remember to clean up after yourself. I've got a date with a handsome Officer." She turned and started walking toward the exit that Lasky had left through.

"I wouldn't call him handsome," Buck said, finally finding his voice.

"I would," Palmer countered, with a grin.

"Then what does that make me?" Buck asked, his own ego feeling a bit bruised. After all he knew Sarah was attracted to him. "Gorgeous? Ultra handsome?" he called, throwing out a few suggestions.

"You're..." Sarah paused and turned back to look at him for a second. "Meh," she finally concluded before continuing on her way out of the gym. Buck just watched her go, knowing that if he pushed more she'd only find more ways to taunt him. He then exited the ring and moved toward the free weights, silently cursing that she knew how to get to him like that.


End file.
